Jen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
John "Scottie" Ferguson and L.B. "Jeff" Jefferies sit in the half-light of a movie theater, awaiting a revival showing of The Naked Spur. A procession of slides appears on the screen advertising colas and asking trivia questions about Adam Sandler movies. To break the tedium, Ferguson opens a book and searches for a particular page.
Ferguson:
There’s a passage in this book I wanted to show you. I was going to bring this up later, but I need some way to get my eyes off those ads on the movie screen just now. I don’t know why my attention is so drawn to them.
Jefferies:
I know what you mean. Intellectually I can reject them, but there’s something about these outsized images that keep sucking you back in. It’s as if the eyes need to seek something up there in the image, even if the mind knows it’s not going to be found anytime soon.
Ferguson:
Ah, here it is. This story keeps inserting itself as an image in my mind. I guess the image is called “Philosophy meets Hollywood.” I came across this strange story in this book The Making of a Philosopher, by the analytic philosopher Colin McGinn, where he talks about his brush with celebrity:
"I happened to be at a premiere party for the movie Meet Joe Black, courtesy of a friend in the movie business. As the crowds poured in after seeeing the movie, I found myself being pushed toward the back, close to Jennifer Aniston, star of Friends and face of a thousand magazine covers (her now-husband, Brad Pitt, was off to the left, safely behind a rope, looking preternaturally handsome). We smiled at each other and I told her that I didn't really belong there, being a philosopher, not a movie person.
She flashed me one of her famous smiles and said perkily, "Oh, who is your favorite philosopher?" Surmising that she must have taken a philosophy course in college and had some knowledge of the subject, I replied, "Probably Bertrand Russell." She looked a little crestfallen and said, "I haven't heard of him." Sensing that I needed to wax more popular, I ventured, "Kant is also a favorite." She replied, dishearteningly, "Haven't heard of him."
This wasn't going well, so I hastily resorted to "How about Plato?" "Oh yes, I know Plato," she replied, happily. Encouraged, and wanting to confirm further knowledge on her part, so that I wouldn't seem like the censorious professor and she the delinquent student, I attempted, "And there's always Descartes, of course." "Haven't heard of him," she murmured, after a heavy pause. Desperately I blurted out, "Well, you are wonderful in Friends!" She said, "Thank you" and beamed, but the damage was done. I don't know who was more embarrassed, her or me.
I made my polite farewell as she threaded her way over to the glamorous Brad group. Afterward I reflected that she has probably meant eastern philosophy, a subject that Mr. Pitt evidently has some interest in--and about which I am about as ignorant as she was of Western philosophy. It's not, I hasten to add, that I think it somehow disgraceful of her not to know the names of more philosophers--she is an actor, after all, not a scholar. In fact, throughout our brief conversation she was gracious and pleasant, I was no one to her. I just wish she had known who Descartes was, that's all--it would have eased the interpersonal discomfort. It's not often that Hollywood meets analytical philosophy, and it would have been nice for it to have gone more swimmingly."
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